A creek ambles by,
The dry makes it quiet, the rain makes it loud …
Tonight: barely heard.
In the darkness,
Among the ghetto owl,
Alone, on purpose, but loud nonetheless …
Among the ghetto dogs,
Chained up,
Till their minds go crooked …
I’m inside, still
And dying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem